Dairy Free
Raps his knuckles gently on the stall door, through the slit by the hinges he can see the archaeologist bent over the porcelain throne. "You doing okay in there, Jackson?"
There's ruffling and the sound of bone against ceramic. "What did Vala say?"
"You want me to get Lam?"
"No—I don't want you to get Lam—I—I want you to—" Jackson interrupts himself by tossing his cookies again, the sound of the splatter echoes through the now empty locker room.
Pulls his mouth tight to hide his chuckle, the amusement where it shouldn't be. 'What exactly did she do to you to—"
The stall door slams open, cracking off the wall, and Jackson, whose skin is gray, wipes his glasses clean against the bottom of his shirt. "Three bowls of double chocolate fudge ice cream on an empty stomach."
"So?"
"So, I'm lactose intolerant."